


Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong You

by CadetDru



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Descent into Madness, Destiny, Episode: e022 Colony (The Magnus Archives), Gen, Mentioned Helen | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Minor Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Not A Fix-It, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 05, This is not a dream, Time Travel, it's not madness if it's real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: It had been nearly two weeks since the worms had trapped Martin in his own flat. No power, no access to the outside world.  Sleeping was only in short bursts, his mind drifting off when he had nothing else. He was completing a circuit, making sure all windowsills and such were well padded.  It was just about dawn.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 93





	Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong You

It had been nearly two weeks since the worms had trapped Martin in his own flat. He had no power, no way of escape, and no access to the outside world.Sleeping was only in short bursts, his mind drifting off when he had nothing else. He was constantly completing a circuit, making sure all windowsills and such were well padded.

It was just about dawn. Daylight wasn't of any use to him, he didn't need to see anything any more. The worms didn't fear it. They didn't respond to anything but him.

Martin wore a T-shirt and track pants. He wasn't comfortable in his own home any more. He couldn't trust anything.He had to be ready to run. He didn't have his shoes on, didn't have the bag of essentials that he'd been packing. He wasn't ready to go.Readiness didn't seem to matter. Being dressed was something, at least.

He was under siege. He was going to live through this.He was rationing his food, sleepingenough to survive. He was surviving on his own. He didn't need anyone else, which was convenient because he didn't have anyone else.

A door opened across the room from him. It was opposite from the front door.It hadn't been there before.The handle was black. The door swung out.Martin anticipated more worms to fall out of it. 

Instead, two figures stood there. One stumbled out. Their long hair fell over their face. Their clothes were too big. He couldn't make out any details. They were completely indistinct. Martin couldn't tell gender or age.It didn't seem to matter much.They weren't acting hostile, didn't seem interested in Martin at all. They didn't have a weapon from what he could see. That made them his dearest friend.

The intruder was staring at the door they'd fallen out of. "Helen, this isn't...?" the intruder said in a peevish, confused, and deeply familiar voice.

"Oh, I'm afraid it is," said the backlit figure standing in the new doorway.

"Michael?" said the intruder. "Why... where. Are we?"

"Not just a where, Archivist," said the one in the doorway. "A when. One of your greatest follies. One that kept you up at night."

"No," the intruder said softly.

"Have fun! We'll be back." The door slammed shut then faded away. The wall smoothed itself out again.

"Damn it," the intruder swore. "Sorry for the disruption," they said in Martin's general direction, finally acknowledging his presence. 

Martin didn't know how to respond. He felt...safe. Not protected, but it wasn't like the thing or things outside the door.This individual wasn't malevolent.

The light outside was just starting to brighten, so it was dimmer still inside. Martin's eyes had adjusted, but colors had been drained from the world. In what visibility there was, the intruder looked familiar. Their facial features were somewhat indistinct, coloring and slight build difficult to discern. They seemed to be familiar, to look like a worn version of the man that Martin hadn't wanted to disappoint.

The intruder stared at the door to the flat, seeming to be in desperate need of an exit.The knocking was back, the smell permeating past the variety of fabric stuffed around it.Martin barely registered it any more.

"You can't get out that way," Martin said.

"It'll be back," the intruder said. 

"Good," Martin said. The intruder couldn't stay with him indefinitely.Martin couldn't expect to go through the nightmare door, didn't want to speculate what would lie beyond.He didn't want to think how much worse things could than a simple worm assault.

"Martin, what day is it?" the intruder asked, still not even looking at him. Martin's attention was completely taken for granted.That was the most Jon-like thing that Martin could have imagined.

"March... twelfth? I think." Time was rapidly losing distinction. Martin could have easily answered any other question. The place and situation were apparently immaterial, time being all that mattered to the intruder.

"What year?"

"...2016," Martin said. 

"So, that's Jane Prentiss out there." Martin nodded, not that it seemed to matter. "Today's the day." They shook their head.

It was time for him to ask questions. "How did you get in my flat?"

"The door."The growing light showed that the intruder was covered in scars of different shapes and sizes."I told Martin it wouldn't work but he just... I couldn't..."

"Well, it's my flat and you weren't invited," Martin said. He didn't call the intruder a hallucination because it seemed like an impolite thing to do.

"I didn't mean to come here," the intruder said, staring at the door. "If I had to be here, why today? Why not at the start?"

"I'm sorry," Martin offered insincerely.His personal hell had affected some stranger in the past, echoing away from Martin.

"How is the poetry going?"the intruder said, finally looking at Martin."I've never asked if you wrote anything here."

Martin shook his head. "The knocking puts me off."

"Have you read much Edgar Allen Poe?" the intruder said. "You could take inspiration."

"You hear the knocking too." It wasn't a question, just a statement of hope and relief.

"Of course," the intruder said.

"I've been trying to tune it out," Martin said. He hadn't realized it was working. "I thought I was coping."

"Oh, Martin," the intruder said. The softness in their voice was too cloying. His name sounded like a mantra, worn with overuse.This was someone who was used to talking to and about Martin.

"Jon probably hasn't even noticed I'm gone." The options were indifference and indignation. Martin wasn't sure which was worse on a normal day.Both seemed bad enough from behind this battered door.

"He's calling you now," the intruder said, softly and sadly. "You don't have your phone. He doesn't know that. He does care, in his own way..."

"I wish I had a tape recorder. I could record Jon a statement in case..."

"You'll record one when you leave later today," the stranger said.

Martin could only nod.He couldn't trust his voice.He was holding back tears.

"My name is Jonathan Sims. I'm from your future, about three years from now. Timelines are tricky."

"And you fell here while following up on the mystery of how Martin Blackwood died?"

"I wasn't... you don't die here so it's not a mystery."

"It probably says something about me that I've hallucinated my boss giving me a pep talk."

The intruder's face broke out into a crooked smile. "Well, you did go to all that effort just to show him how diligent you are."

"Well, I'm going to die here so it's not like he'll get the chance."

The intruder straightened up. "No. You'll get through this."

"How?" Martin's voice broke with despair and desperation. "You're not here to rescue me," he said. He tried not to cry, but tears started to fall despite himself.

The intruder quickly crossed to him, reaching up slightly to put a hand on each shoulder. "Hey, hey.I'm sorry. You've never needed rescuing," the intruder said with an earnestness that Martin had never heard from Jon.

Deep green eyes focused on Martin's eye. The focus got too intense, like he was trying to see every thought Martin was having.Martin glanced down at the floor, focusing on a random spot.

The intruder let go, stepped back, cleared their throat. "I'm sorry, I know I promised..."

Martin looked back up. "Promised what?"

"Not to see," the intruder said. "Not to know." The intruder collapsed in stages onto his couch.

Martin didn't sit, not wanting to be too close. "If you're Jon."

"I am." the intruder said.

"If. Why would you..." Martin cleared his throat to finish the sentence. "...care?"

The intruder was trembling. "I've always... lord, I don't know how this works, I don't know why Helen's done, I don't know when I'm leaving. If I were a different man, then I could... we could. Something could."

Martin waited for the stranger to form a complete sentence.

"You aren't scared of me." the intruder said.

"I could take you.," Martin said. His voice sounded different to his own ears. "I could put my hand right on that scar, crush your windpipe."

The intruder's hand shook a little. "Right.Well.I was going to say that you know you can trust me, that you know who I am."

"Assuming you really are Jon, I could definitely strangle you with my bare hands." Martin's hands twitched at his side.Killing Jon wasn't something he could ever do.He could never kill anyone, but...

"You like Jon," the intruder said plaintively.

Martin couldn't argue with that. Martin's feelings for Jon were both personal and professional. He would never hurt Jon. Not even a supernatural stranger who had decided to wear Jon's face. Not even if it was just another trick, another trap.

He wanted to sit down again but he didn't want to seem too threatening. He wasn't going to hurt this person. Realor not, they hadn't done anything to him. They were just in his flat. 

The knocking was continuing on the door.

The intruder was still talking. Martin didn't know how long they'd been talking, pleading for their life or something disturbingly close to it.

Martin sat down and the intruder stopped talking. Martin filled the sudden silence. "Can you tell me anything useful? Do anything? Reminding me of Jon is just... it's not helpful. I'm trying not to think about him, thank you very much.You're a very cruel hallucination."

"I am real," the intruder said. He laughed, a short and harsh bark."You're the manifestation of my own guilt.I didn't come here, didn't know... you went through this all alone and I just... This is what happens when I don't keep my eye on you."

"I'm sorry for being so unknowable," Martin said sarcastically. "I'm sure if you could keep 24/7 surveillance on me I'd be much safer."

"Well, you would," the intruder said. It sounded like they'd started an old argument."I want you to be safe."

"Why?" Martin asked. The tears started again.

"You're Martin. I..." The intruder's mouth snapped shut. "I really can't... I've already said too much. I don't know how time travel or interwoven nightmares or whatever this is work."

"No one cares," Martin said, trying to be cold and emotionless. He failed, miserably.

The intruder took Martin's hand. Their hand was scarred and burnt. They'd clearly gone through much worse than a worm onslaught. They had little pockmarks too. Those made Martin think of the worms. Martin took his hand back, just not as quickly as he maybe should have.

"Sorry," the intruder said. "You look so much like him, I'm forgetting..."

"I'm not your Martin," he said. "Because, and I hate to say it again, no one cares about me and I'm going to die alone in this miserable place."

"You won't. Today's the day you get out," the intruder said.

"How would you know?"

"I remember." The look of affection on their face was too much. Martin couldn't imagine this stranger trying to kiss him but the thought was hovering around him, waiting for find a place to land.

The yellow door appeared in a different wall. The intruder looked at it the way they'd been looking at Martin.

"Can I come with you?" Martin asked. "Just as a way out. You don't need to keep me with you."

The intruder hesitated. "No. It's enough of a risk for me. You can't... I can't let anything happen to you."

Martin waved at the real door. "Things have been happening."

"It won't last much longer," the intruder said. They quickly kissed Martin's cheek. "I'm sorry.I love you."

They were gone, the door was non-existent, before Martin knew how to react, if he wanted to respond or reject the current reality. He certainly didn't love Jon and he couldn't believe that Jon even regretted his absence.

The knocking had stopped, too. The worms were gone.Everyone, everything had left him. He took his time verifying it before taking off for the Institute.

He didn't have to tell Jon about this hallucination. There wasn't anything to tell. The worms were what mattered. That was the real issue, not scarred strangers with love and pity in their eyes.


End file.
